The energy at L'Esprit de Gigi had turned from romantic Parisian chic to Bravo special episode real quick.

After the cringe-and-chaos-filled introduction speeches by Veronica and Archie that ended with a public dragging over Winter Blanco and blood packets, Archie tried to reenter normalcy. He made his way back to his table with the boys — Jughead, Kevin, Reggie, Spencer, John B. — and unexpectedly found himself joined by Jessica Davis, Ginny Miller, and Georgia Randolph.

The waiter poured the next round of champagne, and plates of duck confit arrived like offerings to a group of war generals coming back from emotional battle.

Jessica, with a raised brow and a half-laugh, turned to Archie. "Okay, wait. Run that back. You hired Kim Petras for your wedding in Paris?"

Archie, already rubbing his temples, nodded. "Yep. Kim is locked in. I contacted her rep weeks ago. Sent the blood packets and everything."

Ginny blinked. "I'm sorry, did you just say blood packets?"

Georgia leaned in. "That better be some metaphorical blood or this just turned into American Horror Story: Eiffel Tower Edition."

Archie chuckled nervously. "No, no. It's weird, yeah. But it's Kim's thing. Symbolic. I guess. I don't know. Her rep said she needs a pact — 'sealed in blood.' So… me and the guys donated. Like legit. Blood. We made packets. It's fine."

Jessica stared. "That's not fine, Archie."

Ginny just nodded slowly. "This wedding's giving vampire cult but in Givenchy."

Georgia sipped her champagne. "I once had a blood pact in Savannah. Long story short, there was moonshine, an ouija board, and someone lost a tooth. Don't recommend it."

Then, out of nowhere, Veronica came stomping over from the bar, her glass of champagne trembling slightly in her hand. The energy she radiated was straight-up Gatsby unraveling.

But instead of confronting Archie herself, she simply pointed to Winter Blanco and gestured, "Handle it."

Winter, already perched nearby with a full face beat and eyes sharp as stilettos, sauntered over like a lioness in heels.

"Okay, Archie," Winter said, arms crossed. "Time for the Kailie Treatment."

Archie blinked. "The what?"

John B. whispered, "Is that the thing from Bad Girls Club where someone gets verbally annihilated with extensions flying?"

Kevin quietly ducked behind his champagne glass.

Winter rolled her neck and flipped her hair. "Let me break it down. You lied to your fiancée. You called her a narcissist. Then you hired a whole pop star behind her back and sent blood in the mail. You're basically the Kailie Lima of this situation."

Archie raised a brow. "I don't even know who Kailie is."

Winter scoffed. "Season 16. DreamDoll and I had to teach her a lesson. That lesson? Don't come for someone if they didn't send for you."

Jughead interrupted. "What was the lesson, exactly? Like a spiritual awakening or a WWE moment?"

Winter glared. "Both."

Ginny, clearly overwhelmed, stood up. "I'm just gonna… go outside. Air. This is... not normal."

Back at the table, Veronica was on glass number who-even-knows of French champagne. Betty, ever the voice of reason, tried stepping in.

"V, maybe take it easy. You're gonna be hungover tomorrow and the wedding's literally the next day. You should—"

"NOOOOO," Veronica said dramatically, dragging out the vowel like a slow-motion scream. "I am fine. He—" she pointed vaguely in Archie's direction, "—doesn't deserve this majesty anyway."

Antoine Lambert slid by like the French man of etiquette he was and handed her a mini quiche. "You need something solid, mademoiselle."

Gabriel, meanwhile, was passing duck confit across the room with the poise of someone trying desperately not to get involved in whatever Riverdale-Bad Girls-Champagne Apocalypse was unfolding in front of him.

Back at the table, Reggie stood up. "Okay, I'm sorry, but who are you, again?" He pointed at Winter.

"Try me," Winter said, unbothered, sipping her wine like it was revenge.

"Oh, I will," Reggie growled.

Archie groaned. "We are not doing this. This isn't Bad Girls Club. This is my wedding rehearsal. In Paris. With duck confit!"

Winter pointed. "And you don't get to talk about narcissism when you're out here acting like the French version of Chad Gekko."

Gasps.

That was too far.

Archie's face flushed. "You don't get to weaponize reality TV and trauma bonding over ring pop-level drama!"

Jessica quickly stepped in between the table. "Okay, okay! That's ENOUGH! This isn't an elimination challenge on a reality show! Y'all are adults. Grown adults. In Paris. Eating duck that probably cost more than my tuition. Let's breathe."

Winter shrugged, unbothered. "Whatever. I made my point."

Back at the bar, Veronica downed another champagne. She turned to Betty and slurred, "Do you think I'm narcissistic?"

"No," Betty said quickly. "But you are being dramatic."

Veronica gasped.

Antoine leaned in again. "Perhaps… some water?"

Veronica threw a hand over his mouth and said, "I want to be remembered for this."

Betty groaned.

As the wedding rehearsal dinner carried on, French food was served, red cheeks flushed, and champagne bottles emptied like battle flags. Tension ran thick like hollandaise. Somehow, through all the chaos, laughter still echoed under the glow of chandeliers.

Because, in the end, this was exactly the wedding vibe Veronica and Archie had manifested.

Unhinged. Fabulous. And just unfiltered enough to be unforgettable.